


February 29

by Sara_K_M



Category: Call of the Midwife
Genre: Crisis of Faith, Multi, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-02-15 21:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sara_K_M/pseuds/Sara_K_M
Summary: Shelagh may or may not be traveling through her childhood.  How does she handle it?  And is it really happening?





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> I really don’t know what the response of this is going to be; paranormal and a realistic show like Call of the Midwife don’t necessarily go together. But they always say write what you want (especially when you’re not writing for profit), so I’ll see.  
> Also, I haven’t seen season 8 yet, so even though it’s set in 1964 (it has to be, because of the leap year reference), none of the new characters or storylines from season 8 will appear in this.

February 29  
Disclaimer: I don’t own Call of the Midwife.

Prologue

I don’t know what’s happening to me or why. I used to believe everything was in God’s control, but I’m not certain I can anymore. I’m unsure what to do now.  
But I need to start at the beginning. It all started last year. On February 29…

Teddy, who was normally my sweet, easygoing boy, was making an awful racket that night. He was cutting his first molar, and it apparently hurt him. A lot. My heart broke for him as he screamed and fussed while he rubbed his gums. His eyes pleaded for me to take away his pain.

Patrick offered to help, of course, being the wonderful husband and father that he was. But I knew it wasn’t wise. He’d been called out late last night and had only been allowed about two – and – a – half hours of sleep. I believe I saw him yawn at least ten times today. If he expected to be the amazing doctor that Popular knew him to be, he needed more sleep tonight.

“It’s not as if Teddy is ill, Patrick,” I told him as the wee boy whimpered. I pulled him closer to my chest. “It’s his tooth. We knew this would happen eventually.”  
Patrick sighed and put his arms around both of us. But when he looked at me again, the dark circles under his eyes stared right at me, and I shook me head. “Sleep, Patrick,” I told him firmly. “Teddy and I will be fine by ourselves.”

I did everything I could to soothe my Teddy. I gave him a wet wash cloth to suck on, I rocked him, I rubbed his back, and I sang to him. Plainsong. Nursery rhymes. Anything I could think of. But nothing was working. I felt like crying myself.  
I believe Tim complained about the noise because he was trying to study at one point. I may have yelled at the poor boy; I was so frustrated. At least Angela slept soundly.  
Kissing his blond head again, I wasn’t certain what to do anymore. It had seemed like hours. I almost regretted not allowing Patrick to help. “Oh Teddy,” I whispered as he gnawed on the wash cloth again.  
Then suddenly, his wee eyes closed. He was finally asleep. Hopefully I could sleep now as well.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
“Willy, it’s already almost 8:00 in the morning.”

“But Ramsay McDonald’s new policy is going to be broadcasted on the wireless,” said a deep voice from the next room.

I hadn’t heard either of those voices in years. Sometimes I thought I had forgotten what they sounded like. But now I dared took look up and found myself staring at my mother’s bright copper hair. “Willy, you know, Ramsay McDonald doesn’t have all the answers.” He’s a great Scot, and he has some wonderful plans for all of Great Britain,” my said my father’s voice. “Did you know his father was 

“- A marquis*, yes,” Mum said, shaking her head. “I’ve heard. But Willy, you’re going to be late for the office if you don’t hurry. I’m certain you can listen to the wireless in your office.”  
I smiled as I heard Mum say “Willy” again, a name I could barely recall. After all, no one but Mum was ever able to call him that. Hearing it again filled my heart with joy, and without thinking, I launched myself at her and hugged her for all it was worth.  
“Goodness, Shelagh,” Mum said, giggling, as I continued to hold my six – year – old body to hers.

Da finally came in, dressed to impress in a clean suit, as always. As well – respected solicitor, presentation was everything to him. Nevertheless, I couldn’t stop myself from hugging him a wee bit as well. Fortunately, he didn’t complain about the bit wrinkles I created.

At school, while the teacher lectured about vowels, I thought about Mum again. How she always dressed me in clean clothing and brought me to school herself. How she would help me with my homework when I needed it. And she always seemed to smile when she saw me or Da.

I was blessed to begin life with a mother like her.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I opened my eyes and automatically knew that I was just as blessed to be a mother now. No matter how fussy they may get. “Hello Teddy,” I greeted him as I pulled him out of his crib. My heart filled with love he looked at me, drool coming out the side of his mouth.I felt a wet spot on my blouse as I carried him to the changing table. Of course, he was sucking on my clothing again, but I didn’t care at that point. The Lord had blessed me so much. In fact, I began to sing softly as I wiped his bottom.  
Rejoice you just, in the Lord; praise from the upright is fitting.  
Give thanks to the Lord on the harp; on the ten – stringed lyre offer praise.  
Sing to God a new song; skillfully play with joyful chant  
For the Lord’s word is true; all his works are trustworthy.  
The Lord loves justice and right and fills the earth with goodness. **

“Good morning,” I said as I entered the kitchen several minutes later with Teddy in my arms.

“Mum, how can you be so cheerful when the baby was making all that racket last night?” Tim asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Teddy is just teething, Tim. He was more unhappy than any of us,” I told him as I gently set Teddy in his high chair and kissed his head.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Tim said, shaking his head.

“Truly, God sent me a lovely dream that reminded me how blessed I am to be a mother. To all of you. No matter how much trouble you make for me,” I added with a grin. I leaned over and kissed Angela, and then Timothy as well, even though I knew he’d wipe it right off.

“And they’re just as blessed to have you,” said a deep, wonderful voice from behind me. “We all are,” Patrick finished as I turned to face him. The man who allowed me to become a mother.

“Thank you,” I whispered, knowing he would understand why I was thanking him. Patrick’s eyes stared into mine and kissed my hand. Warmth and even more joy rushed through me, as I knew exactly what that meant.  
His smile was bright and there were no more circles under his eyes; he looked refreshed. “You seem better today as well,” I whispered to him as I kissed his cheek. “Ready to be the excellent doctor you are.”

Timothy groaned in the background. “I would like to be able to have breakfast, if possible.”

“Of course,” I said, getting started.

It was all so easy to believe that it was a dream and that the dream was a gift from God that day. It wasn’t so easy the next time. 

*Actually that was just a rumor that McDonald played up for his own benefit.  
**Ps 33:1 – 5. St. Joseph ed. The translation might be a little off, considering I think Shelagh would have a King James Bible. But the basic message should be the same.


	2. Blood

Blood

For a couple of months, life went on normally.

I did my best to explain Lent to all my Turners again. Patrick and I delivered a set of twins at the maternity home. Angela unfortunately caught strep throat at nursery, and I stayed home to care for her through her illness. Then I caught it from her. Patrick worried I might get TB again as a result. The poor man became scared every time I had a respiratory infection.  
Easter came and went, as did our wedding anniversary. My heart still filled with joy when I thought of them.

The dream I had of my parents was no more than a pleasant memory. Then one evening at the end of Apirl, things changed again.  
Angela fussed all evening because of something one of the boys at nursery said. I hated to see her wee face unhappy, especially when she told me why. A boy from nursery made fun of her drawing. “He said it was stupid, and it didn’t look anything like a baby. It was supposed to be my baby brother!” she sobbed into my chest, getting me wet with tears.

“I’m certain your picture looked exactly like Teddy,” I told her as I stroked her back. I’d have to speak to this boy’s parents. Soon. I wasn’t easily angered but how could they raise a child that would say such a thing to my sweet girl? I tightened my arms around Angela.

She pushed her food around at dinner, claiming she wasn’t hungry. I did my best to cheer her up by making faces and telling jokes. Anything to get this mean boy out of her wee head.

But Teddy wished to receive attention as well and began to throw food in the air. At least my Patrick was willing to help. And Timothy as well. I was blessed to have such wonderful men in my life.

An hour and a half later, both Teddy and Angela had drifted off to sleep, but I needed to clean the kitchen. It was more of a mess than usual tonight. It wasn’t even the right color anymore. “Shelagh, we have a cleaning lady now,” Patrick whispered as I scrubbed the potato off the cupboard. “Don’t worry about this.”

I sighed. “I can’t just leave it like this, Patrick.” I stared at the spots of yellow potato and pieces of chicken that covered my teal kitchen.  
Patrick used his hands to rub my shoulders gently, making me feel warm all over. “I know but I wish you’d take a break sometimes. At least leave the mopping alone.” I stared at the floor, examining all the squashed peas. “We had plans tonight, anyway, remember?” His eyes twinkled in a way I loved to see.

“I remember,” I promised him. “And I want to, Patrick,” I admitted, thinking of us touching each other without clothes. I grew warmer still. “But not – “

“-Without cleaning the kitchen first,” he finished for me with a smile. “I suppose I can wait.”

“Your good at waiting for me,” I teased him, thinking of all the times I made him wait in the past.

“I have to be,” he agreed. His brown eyes twinkled in that adorable way again as he left the kitchen.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

I finished cleaning the food off the cupboards and the oven door, all the while looking forward to what would happen between Patrick and I later. Then I swept the floor, trying to clean up all the squashed peas and bits of chicken that I could. Staring at the floor for a moment, I finally decided my husband was correct. As much as I hated not to have my kitchen look spotless, the cleaning lady would mop the floor tomorrow.

I had more important things to do tonight. Letting our arousal simmer was enjoyable, but now it was time for resolution. Washing my hands, I inhaled the smell of soap. Then I straightened my hair. Patrick didn’t want me because of the way I smelled or the way my hair looked, but I still wished to be presentable.

Then I went up the stairs with a huge grin on my face.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Mmm, Patrick,” I whispered as I buried my nose into his bare chest. He smelled of soap and fresh cologne.

“Shelagh,” he whispered back, his fingers playing with my hair as I continued to snuggle on his chest. His heart was still beating faster than normal. “So, Angela finally calmed down?”

“Indeed,” I said, remembering the way she had finally smiled as she drifted off to sleep. “I’m still going to have to speak to Jacob’s parents though.” I knew he was only a child and the Lord preached forgiveness, but he had hurt my baby. “Calling her picture that she was so proud of stupid… “ I shook my head as I looked int Patrick’s eyes.

“Quite,” he said, grinning at me. “Anyone who makes our children upset better watch out.” He kissed my palm, showing how much he loved that.

“And Timothy?” I asked him, pausing to kiss his chest again. “Does he have any new girls he’s interested in? Or concerts he wants to attend?” “No, tonight he just wanted me to explain the latest treatments for gangrene. It was in the Lancet.” Patrick’s face shone with pride.

“Naturally,” I said, kissing him again before falling back onto his chest. It really had been a blissful night.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

The familiar sound of a woman moaning in pain hit my ears. Thinking I was in the maternity home with a patient in need, I made a dash for the laboring mother. “What is her prognosis?” I asked as I went.

“Don’t worry about Mum, Shelagh,” said my father’s voice. “Rose has already rung for the midwife.” At that point, I realized I wasn’t at the maternity home at all. I was in the house where my mother died. The white, lacey wallpaper my mother loved decorated the hallway and my parents’ bedroom was at the top of the stairs. How could I have had a blissful night only to end up in a nightmare?

“Da, I need to do something to help Mum,” I told him firmly, surprising how small my voice sounded. I was eight years old again. I didn’t care. I would help my mother this time.

Da sighed and looked down at me. “I suppose Mum and the midwife would appreciate some wet towels.”

I immediately ran to the washroom and grabbed several towels, dousing them with warm water. I tried to ignore the heavy feeling in my stomach as I did so. Mum would be fine. All the same, I washed my hands thoroughly as well. 

I wasn’t the least bit surprised when I heard my mother scream. So loudly she shook the house. “Where is the bloody midwife?” I heard my father yell form downstairs.

I’m a midwife! I thought. I didn’t care that I was only eight years old right now. I didn’t care that another midwife was supposed to arrive soon. I didn’t even care that I didn’t have the proper instruments. Mum needed me.

I scooped up the towels and dashed into the bedroom.

The room smelled of blood. My mother had hemorrhaged. “Mum, I’m here,” I spoke to her softly trying to clean up the blood in her vaginal areal while simulating her contractions at the same time.

“Shelagh?” Mum whispered groggily, meeting my eyes briefly before closing them.

“Mum!” I whispered sharply, tapping her shoulder. “Stay with me! Tell me about the wonderful life we’ll have with my new sibling.” Mum opened her eyes again, but then immediately shut them. I simulated the contractions again. And again. “Mum,” I said, “Please. Wake up. Push.”

But she hemorrhaged again, losing much more blood than the first time. What could I do without proper instruments? Without a doctor?

I willed my Patrick to appear, ready to save the patient, like he always did. If he were here he could save Mum like he had Mave Carter.

But of course, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead I my mother’s heartbeat faded to a stop “Mum,” I whispered, as tears ran down my face. “No, don’t do this. Not again.” I stared at her lifeless body. How many times had I wished I had my midwife’s training when my mother died so I could help? It appeared that it didn’t make any difference, after all. To my mother or the baby. We found out later it would have been a boy. I would have had a little brother.

OOOOOOOOOO

I woke up with tears still streaming down my face, feeling as if my heart had been ripped out of my chest again. I couldn’t stop crying.

“Shelagh,” Patrick whispered, his gentle hand on my back. “What is it?”

“I had a terrible nightmare,” I sobbed to him. “I dreamed of the night my mother died.” My noses started running and I searched desperately for a handkerchief. “I was her midwife, and I still couldn’t save her.” Finding a handkerchief, I suddenly noticed my hands were stained with blood. Was I bleeding?

I blew my nose.

“Oh, Shelagh,” Patrick whispered, walking toward me. Suddenly he stared at my hands. “You’re bleeding!” he said as he dragged me into the washroom.

“Patrick, it’s really nothing to worry about,” I said. “It must be a small cut; I can’t even feel it.”

But of course, he ignored me, washing all the blood away thoroughly, and checking for cuts or wounds. I smiled at him, despite my slight annoyance. Such a doctor. Besides, Patrick examining my hands brought back memories.

“I can’t find any cut or wound,” he said after he’d searched my hands several times, as well as up and down my arms. He even looked at my legs.

Ordinarily such touches from Patrick would be arousing, but not now. Not with the worried look in his eyes. “I don’t understand it, Shelagh. But… I think you should stay home today. Just in case you begin bleeding again. That was rather a lot of blood.”

“No, Patrick,” I said firmly. “I need to go to work. Especially today. After that horrible nightmare where I couldn’t help my mother, I have to help some women.” A lump formed in my throat as I remembered that dream. “Besides, I still need to speak to Jacob’s parents about telling our daughter her drawings are stupid.” Patrick sighed and squeezed my shoulder.

“Of course, you do.” His brown eyes softened as he stared into mine. I smiled, loving that he always supported me in whatever I told him I needed.

Still, how did the blood get on my hands? It couldn’t have come from my dream, could it? From my mother’s hemorrhage? That made no sense. But I couldn’t stop thinking of that possiblity for the rest of the day.


	3. Dirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m afraid I’m going to have to change my updating schedule for this to once a month. My children will be on summer vacation soon, so I’ll have less time to write.

I forced that awful nightmare, and the mysterious blood on my hands from my mind after that day. After all, there were so many other things for me to do.

Timothy passed all his final exams for his last year at grammar school and was accepted into university. Patrick and I took him out to dinner to celebrate his achievement. “Such a smart young man deserves the best,” I told him as he sat down at the restaurant.

“Quite,” Patrick agreed, his brown eyes gleaming with pride. “You’ve worked hard, son.”

Timothy just grinned. “Does this mean I can order the largest steak they have?”

Unfortunately, the next week, he proved he was still only eighteen. He came home late and very drunk. Patrick screamed about responsibility, alcoholism, and liver disease. Timothy screamed back that he wanted to have fun before starting university, and that his father was too old to understand. 

I tried to keep them from killing each other.

Patrick and I also seemed to have almost no time alone. We’d had plans to be intimate, and then he was called out for almost the entire night, causing him to be far too tired the next. Then Angela had a nightmare and insisted on spending the night with us.   
We had always prided ourselves on staying professional at the surgery, but Patrick’s office began to look very tempting. Especially when he was sitting in that office chair, his clinical coat on and his hair was just begging to have me run my fingers through it.

“Patrick,” I whispered.

“Shelagh,” his eyes roamed my body, making me feel even warmer. I knew how much he loved my nursing uniform.

I needed to touch him. My arms and legs moved almost on their own, when we both heard the door open.

“Dr. Turner, I think it’s another whooping cough case.” We both froze. Back to work.

OOOOOOOOOO

“This is the third case of whooping cough in the last two weeks,” Patrick said as he looked at the reports again later that night. “Susan Cole and Bobby Jenkins were bad enough, but Arjun’s mother is eight months pregnant.”  
I nodded, trying to focus on the latest medical problem. I knew how dangerous whooping cough could be for a newborn baby. But my eyes continued to stare at Patrick’s wonderfully thick hair and inhale his deep masculine scent.

I wanted him. 

And I was extremely frustrated that he didn’t seem to want me. He certainly seemed to earlier today. Why wasn’t I important any longer?

“I gave Arjun a prescription for penicillin, but I think we should give his mother a vaccination as soon as possible,” Patrick commented, making another note as he barely glanced at me.

“Indeed,” I said, trying to contain my frustration. After all, he was just being a dedicated doctor, which is something I usually admired him. Loved him.   
But I couldn’t do this anymore tonight. “I’m going to bed,” I said finally, pushing the chair in a wee too loudly.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Church bells rang in my ears, and I felt myself immediately calm down. No matter my frustration with my husband, I could always depend on the Lord to take care of me.

“Now I expect you to behave yourself today in church,” Da’s voice said from above me. “I know you’re still a wee bit angry at God, but we’re in a new town and we need to make a good first impression.”

I stared at him for a moment, wondering what on Earth was happening and where I was.

“Shelagh, I mean it,” Da said in the same voice I used when Angela was misbehaving. He picked up my hand and attempted to pull me toward the small church. His eyes flashed surprise when I instantly walked toward it on my own.   
I was always home in church.

Thinking back, though it hadn’t always been the case. I had wanted nothing to do with the Lord after my mother died, particularly considering my father was always more interested in being seen in church by others than actually worshiping the Lord. Everything was about appearances for Da. 

“Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,” we all prayed, and I felt the Holy Spirit everywhere in the wee church. 

I understood where I was now. I was ten years old, and Da had decided to leave Aberdeen for this much smaller town. The memories of Mum were too much for him. To much for both of us, really. And he thought perhaps in a smaller place, he might find more clients. In Aberdeen, it seemed to my father that no one could afford a solicitor.

After Mass, Da introduced himself to as many people as he possibly could, trying to appear as friendly as possible. I kept quiet, like the obedient wee girl he’d told me to be. Still, I wished Da would see church as a house of God, rather than a place to make connections. 

I wished he would stop pretending.

“My heart has been in the grave for the last two years,” my father suddenly snapped. “If it worked for Ramsay McDonald, it can work for me, too.” I supposed it was nice he finally said something real.  
The man he was speaking to looked at him, uncertain of how to respond. It never occurred to my father that not everyone thought that McDonald was the greatest man that ever lived. Especially after he was voted out of office. “Of course, Mr. Mannion,” she said finally. 

My father repeated that phrase more times than I could count every time someone suggested he marry again. Or start courting someone. Or even implied should consider meeting a new woman.   
I couldn’t help comparing Da to my Patrick. Patrick had suffered just as much when he’d lost Marianne, if not more, considering Marianne’s illness was a long, debilitating ordeal. But he didn’t leave his heart in the ground. He tried to hold on to it for Timothy’s sake, and then opened it to me. Furthermore, I knew Patrick was honest. Everything he did for me, for Timothy, for Angela and Teddy, and for our patients was real.

And I loved him so much for it. 

OOOOOOOOOO

I had expected to wake up by now. But for some reason this dream continued. Perhaps I should feel blessed to have more time with Da again. After he died, I had regretted not trying to rebuild our relationship.  
“Have you been able to find new clients?” I asked him over dinner. Rose had been let go when we moved, so it was fish and chips again.

“Don’t worry about such things, Shelagh,” Da responded with that patronizing, fake smile he wore at this point in his life. “We’re going to be fine.”

“But Da – “ I protested, trying to explain that I always worried about him.

“Shelagh, this town is going to be a new start for us,” he told me. He finished his fish and picked up another cigarette. I pictured all of that fat and salt heading straight for his heart.   
If it was going to be a new start, I needed to begin cooking again. Da needed a healthier diet, and I didn’t even need to teach myself how to cook this time.

OOOOOOOOOOO

It seemed as if I still needed to be educated, though. And despite my eagerness to study what had happened to my mother, I had hated school. I still did.

All the teachers were determined to psychoanalyze me, the poor wee girl who’d lost her mother. They asked me if I was all right. If I needed extra help. If I wanted someone to speak to. If I understood my mother wasn’t coming back. And every time they spoke to me, I could hear the pity. I could see the pity in their eyes. 

I didn’t need any of it. As I had told my Patrick once, “Children are more resilient than you think.” I didn’t want to be babied. I wanted to be respected. And the only person I wished to speak to about Mum was Da.

Unfortunately, Da still switched from pretending nothing was wrong to snapping at people. He never spoke to me about anything important. Everything about him still felt artificial.

At thirty – eight years old, I understood that was Da’s way of coping with pain. And I knew the teachers were only trying to help me. But it was so easy to act like a ten-year-old again when everyone treated me like a ten-year-old.

OOOOOOOOO

The dream had continued for far longer than it should have. It felt as if I had been living as a ten – year – old for three weeks now.  
I missed being treated as an adult. I missed nursing and midwifery. But most of all, I missed my family. Patrick’s gentle eyes and determination to give everyone the best medical care. Angela’s eager curiosity and precious drawings. Timothy’s cheek and inner strength. And Teddy’s innocent smiles and sweet words. 

I closed my eyes again, willing myself to wake up for the fifteenth time. But when my eyes opened, all I saw was the back porch of my father’s new home, and the rolling hills in the distance. Beyond those hills, children laughed, and my heart ached.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I had promised Da I would stay home today. But I was desperate to be near children again. Even if they weren’t my own. So, ignoring the pain in my belly, I ran over the hills toward the sound of the children.  
I came face – to – face with what appeared to be a four – year – old girl, a six-year-old boy, and a nine-year-old girl that I attended school with. “Hi Shelagh!” the oldest girl waved to me. I believe her name was Eliza. 

They were playing on the ground with baby goats. 

I immediately backed away. Perhaps I should have stayed home, after all. You never know with goats. In fact, it was on this farm that I learned just how temperamental goats could be. When I was actually ten years old.

But Eliza protested as left. “Come, Shelagh. These goats are so cute.” She patted on of their wee heads and it nuzzled her. I weakened. My Teddy used to nuzzle like that. 

Still, it was a goat. Sooner or later, the bigger goats would appear. “No, I’m really supposed to stay home today, anyway.” As I backed away, the pain in my belly subsided, proving it was the correct choice.  
But then the other children stared at me with sad, pleading eyes. “It would be more fun with someone else to play with.” And I knew I was going to regret this. My belly began doing backflips. Still, I sat down next to the children. After all, I was desperate to be near wee ones again.

“Do they have names?” I asked, trying to sit next to the children and yet far away from the goats at the same time.

“This one is Greybeard,” the little girl said, patting a small grey goat.

“That’s an interesting name, considering it has no beard,” I said.

“Its father does, though. So Mama says he’ll have one soon enough,” the girl told me seriously. My belly tightened at the thought of adult goats. With horns.

“And this one is Spotty,” the boy said, patting another grey goat that had white spots on his back.

“And this one is” – Eliza began and then turned to her sister. “Emily, you shouldn’t put your hands that close to his mouth.”

My heart pounded faster and faster and my belly jumped as over mountains. I pulled the girl away from the animal quickly. “No, Emily. He might bite.” Or worse, the father goat could get loose and… 

OOOOOOOOOO

To my immense relief, I was suddenly lying on my bed in my own home, with Patrick next to me. I breathed deeply for several minutes, as my heart was still pounding.

Suddenly I looked at Patrick’s sleeping form, realizing what it meant. I had finally woken up. I would spend the day with his warm eyes on me, caring for patients the best he could. My evenings would be filled with Angela’s questions, Timothy’s cheek, and Teddy’s simple words.

Joy and love filled my heart. 

I leaned over to touch my husband’s face and froze when I saw dirt all over my hands. This was the second time months this had happened. Had the dirt somehow come from sitting on the ground in my dream?  
Before Patrick could wake up, I washed my hands to wash everything away. It didn’t matter. I kissed his warm cheek, reveling in his presence, then whispered, “I love you,” in his ear.

Patrick slowly opened his eyes, smiling at me in the way he usually does. But as he stretched, his face turned to confusion. “Shelagh is there something wrong?” he asked as he pulled my hand closer to him.

So honest, I thought as I used my hand to touch his face. I understood his bit of puzzlement. We didn’t often say, “I love you,” especially not spontaneously. “No, Patrick. Everything is wonderful.” I leaned over to kiss his cheek again. I was back where I belonged. “I just had a dream that showed how much you mean to me.”

He smiled and kissed my hand. “Shelagh, I’m sorry if I ignored you a little last night.”

I looked at him blankly, trying to remember what he was referring. Last night felt like it was three weeks ago to me. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, kissing his hand in return.

OOOOOOOOOO

“I think we should ring the Board of Health this morning,” I said later as I finished making breakfast. “With the whooping cough epidemic, we should consider more vaccinations.” I scooped the eggs off the pan. “We have a lot of pregnant mothers and newborns –  
“- That could be killed,” Patrick finished, nodding. “Quite.”

“But aren’t babies already vaccinated for whooping cough?” Timothy asked as he sat down at the table. 

“They are, but not until they are a couple of months old,” Patrick shook his head sadly. “I’ve seen pertussis kill babies that are only weeks old. Or even days old.” I placed some eggs on his plate, squeezing his hand again. I loved how he took Timothy’s questions seriously, even though the answers weren’t easy.

Timothy’s face fell. He cared just as much as his father did.

“And since the vaccination wears off eventually, children and adults spread the disease to newborns far too easily,” I finished, placing eggs on Tim’s plate.

Patrick’s eyes met mine in thanks. And I responded with one of my own as he lifted Teddy into his highchair. Such a great father.

“Where’s the orange juice?” Angela suddenly interrupted, stopping our conversation short.

I pulled the juice out, smiling as I did so. “Right here.” Then I poured each of us a glass. “I just hope the Board of Health will listen about pertussis. They can be stubborn.”

“But you’re a force to be reckoned with,” Patrick said with a grin. “So, I’m sure we’ll convince them in the end.”

I smiled back and then paused to give Angela and Teddy kisses. I really was exactly where I should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Public Service Announcement: If you are pregnant, I highly encourage you to speak to your doctor about getting a vaccination for whooping cough. As well as the rest of the people who live with you. Whooping Cough still kills newborns today, for all the reasons Patrick and Shelagh explained in this chapter.


	4. Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and Shelagh struggle with Timothy leaving for college, while Shelagh is also forced to accept her time travel experiences are real.

Mind

Patrick and I vaccinated Arjun’s mother for whooping cough and eventually most of popular as well.   
We celebrated our victory by finally making love. His touch on my skin and his warm kisses felt twice as special because I witnessed again what a great doctor he was and what a wonderful team we had become. “You did a good thing, today, Patrick,” I said to him as I leaned on his bare chest and looked into his brown eyes. “Babies will be saved. I know they will.”

“We did a good thing, Shelagh,” he corrected, placing his gentle hands in my hair. Such great hands. “I couldn’t have done it without you. I couldn’t do anything without you.”  
I smiled and kissed him again.

OOOOOOOOOOO

And suddenly, none of that seemed to matter. Timothy was off to university, and the house felt so empty I could barely stand it. I wanted him to complain about his chores and give us cheeky comments at dinner. I wanted Tim to ask for help with his homework and as Patrick for details about the latest Lancet article.

“Patrick, nothing is the same anymore,” I whispered when Tim had been gone for three days. “There’s not even anyone to complain about ‘mushy stuff.’’

“I know,” he agreed, stroking my arm. “I never thought I’d miss Tim’s insults. But it seems wrong that he’s not here, complaining that I’m too old to understand him.”

I nodded, remembering how often Tim had shouted that in the last couple of months. “And Angela asked me when Timothy will come home when I put her to bed tonight,” I added with a sigh.

Patrick put his arms around me, and I immediately wrapped my arms around him. We would heal each other. Eventually. 

OOOOOOOOOOO  
Without thinking, we both started spending more time at the Surgery. It had always been our way for us to manage. I took in extra paperwork, and Patrick began seeing a couple more patients a day.   
“That’s two more patients for the maternity home,” he commented as they left.“Quite,” I said, making my notes without looking at up at him. I had to keep busy.

Suddenly I inhaled a very familiar scent. One that made my heart leap and drop at the same time.

Henley’s. 

Was Patrick smoking again? Did he really miss Timothy so much that he needed to violate his promise to our son? Slowly I raised my head, knowing I had to speak to him about this.   
But instead, my eyes met Da’s, staring off into space as he inhaled his cigarette. 

My belly began to do flip flops as I stared at him. What was going on? Had I fallen asleep at my desk? Or… was something else happening? This was, after all the fourth time I’d had a dream about Da, and the other two times I’d woken up with things on my arms that were difficult to explain.

Could I truly be traveling back in time? For what purpose would God do this?

OOOOOOOOOOOO

I had been living with Da for two weeks. Apparently, it was 1941, and we were in the middle of the war. We’d moved again, as he wanted me to be as far away from the Luftwaffe bombing as possible. And he was worse than before, considering he had even more to worry about. So, Da continued to pretend nothing was wrong and snap.

Especially at me. 

I had done my best to help him, learning to cook with less sugar and butter because of the rationing, and staying out of his way when he was particularly upset.  
But I would have given anything for Da to notice me. I would have given anything to return to Patrick, Angela, and Teddy. And it seemed I could do nothing to allow those things to happen. I tried to speak to Da. But as usual, he ignored me. I willed myself to wake up. 

But I was still here.

One night, as we ate dinner, I finally had it. 

“The war should be over by now,” Da said as he took a bite. “The politicians are doing it all wrong. If only Ramsay McDonald were still in office. And the food is horrible.” He directed that last comment at me.

I swallowed a bit, noticing once again how bland it tasted without butter. But that wasn’t the point.

I knew waiting for the war to be over had been frustrating for everyone, although we all had to try our best to defeat Hitler. I knew there were times where I agreed with my father that the politicians were doing it all wrong the first time.  
But couldn’t handle all Da’s anger directed at me. Not anymore.

“Da, it isn’t my fault that the food doesn’t taste right,” I said, trying to stay calm. “You know the rationing makes things difficult. And if you really think you can fix this war, why don’t you run for office, like you’ve always spoken of doing.”

OOOOOOOOOO

“Shelagh,” said a voice from a great distance. I struggled to pay attention to it, as my body was still tense with anger. Da…  
The same voice shouted in my ear, but I recognized it this time. Patrick, who was also waving his hand in my face. My face broke into a huge smile. I was home again. Where everything was normal and Da wasn’t bothering me.

“Patrick,” I said, as I took the hand he’d been waving in front of me.

“Thank goodness, Shelagh,” he said with great relief. He wrapped his arms around me, as if assuring himself I was there. “You were staring off into space for the last several minutes. I couldn’t get any response out of you.”

Several minutes? That was how long this latest “trip” was?  
It was no matter anyway. “Well, I’m fine now,” I said, smiling into his deep brown eyes. “Is there another patient ready?” I looked around the office, wondering why it was empty.

But Patrick shook his head. “Shelagh, I don’t know what the matter with you is, but I think you need to go home.” He squeezed my hand again.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry I spaced out, but everything is fine now, Patrick.” 

My eyes immediately landed on the notes I had been reviewing two weeks ago. Or was it several minutes ago? I picked up my pen, feeling more comfortable.

“Shelagh!” Patrick said, much sharper than he usually did. “I really am sorry, but I think something is wrong, dearest. And I know you like to keep busy, but that can make a problem larger.” He picked up the pen and put it aside. “Remember what happened to me when I became too stressed and busy?” His eyes bore into mine, pleading for me to understand.

My mind flashed back to that horrible time where my Patrick lost all confidence in his abilities. I remembered the haunted look in his eyes and how he wouldn’t leave the bed for a week. I had been so scared for him. “Yes,” I said, staring back into his eyes. “But this isn’t the same thing.”

“Shelagh,” Patrick said firmly. “I think it is.”

OOOOOOOOOOO

No matter how many times I protested, Patrick refused to be dissuaded. I knew he was just concerned about my health, and normally I loved him for that. Especially the way he took mental wellbeing as serious as physical.  
But now I hated the way he didn’t listen to me.

I spent the evening reading to Teddy and cuddling Angela, rather than paying any attention to my husband.

OOOOOOOOOO  
A week later, Patrick still refused to allow me to work, even as I tried to tempt him with my nursing uniform. I didn’t know what to do. I tried my best to fill time with housework, but I still felt useless.  
“You’re not well, Shelagh,” he told me over and over as I protested. Again, I wondered if I should just go to work anyway. 

To make matters worse, I couldn’t seem to sleep, nor did I wish to do so any longer. I hated spending so much time away from my family, and it appeared as if I was truly being taken away from them. For weeks. It scared me.

Furthermore, what was causing me to travel through time? Why would God do such a thing to me? Or did these experiences have nothing to do with God?  
That’s what scared me the most. I’d always believed everything involved God in some way. But I couldn’t trust him anymore.

I tried praying the psalms, particularly this one:

My soul rests in God alone, from whom comes my salvation.  
God alone is my rock and salvation, my secure height; I shall never fall.  
How long will you set upon people, all of you beating them down,  
As though they were a sagging fence or a battered wall?  
Even from my place on high they plot to dislodge me.  
They delight in lies; they bless with their mouths, but inwardly they curse.  
My soul, be at rest in God alone, from whom comes my hope.  
God alone is my rock and my salvation, my secure height; I shall not fall.  
My safety and glory are with God, my strong rock and refuge.  
Trust God at all times, my people!   
Pour out your hearts to God our refuge! * 

I prayed late in the morning. After lunch. While I was supposed to be sleeping. But they didn’t seem to help.  
Tomorrow I would find a way to go to work again, one way or another. It was the only thing I could do.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

I struggled to put my nursing uniform on without my eyes closing accidently. I couldn’t fall asleep! “Shelagh,” Patrick’s annoying voice said as I opened my eyes again. “You’re not going to work today.”

“Patrick, I need to this,” I said firmly, noticing for the first time that the buttons on my uniform were mismatched.

“But Shelagh, this, whatever this is, is getting worse.” He knelt in front of me, his brown eyes staring into mine. “You don’t sleep for half the night, and so you’re tired all day. It’s worse than when Angela and Teddy were still waking up at night.”  
He was right. It was worse. But there was nothing I could do about it. And there was no way I could explain that to him.

“No, Patrick. I really need,” I paused and yawned. “To work.” I busied myself with trying to rebutton my uniform, ignoring the look in his eyes.

“No, Shelagh,” his annoying voice bounced in my ears again. “You need help. And for some reason, I can’t give it to you. And you need rest, which means you shouldn’t be doing housework all day. So I’ve called Sister Julianne.”

OOOOOOOOO

“Dr. Turner told me you need to rest more,” Sister Julianne said her calm, caring way as she led me to the settee. “I think you should lie down.”

I sighed. If only it were that simple. “I can’t, Sister. I can’t sleep. So, I have to work.” I tried my best to stand, thinking it might be the perfect day for vacuuming. 

But Sister Julianne looked me straight in the eye, all the wisdom showing in her face. “Will you speak to me first, Shelagh? Why is it so difficult to sleep? Are you worried about something?”  
Yawning again, despite myself, I nodded. “So many things. But my biggest problem is that I can’t trust God anymore. In my life. I can’t even feel His presence when I pray. The Lord is gone, Sister.” I said, staring at my knees. I couldn’t admit such a thing to her face.

My one consolation when I left the Order was, I still had my faith. Now I didn’t even have that. My eyes blurred, becoming wet.

Sister Julianne’s hand touched mine softly, like she always did. “Shelagh, you know that your faith is always being tested. It’s the Lord’s way. It doesn’t mean He is gone.”  
I sighed. If only it were that simple. “This doesn’t feel like a test, Sister. I’ve been tested before, questioning His ways when Sister Monica Joan had to leave midwifery, and when baby Thomas Kelley died. And of course, during the biggest change in my life, when I left the Order. But I never felt God was absent from my life. Not like I do now.”

I expected Sister Julianne to release my hand, shocked that her former Sister could admit such a thing. That I could lose the Lord completely.  
But she didn’t. Instead, she hugged me, despite everything. I felt her love flow right into my heart. “Some of the Lord’s tests are more challenging than others, Shelagh. And some of them last longer than others. I struggled to trust God last year for several months. For a time, I thought he was gone from me, too.”

I stopped and stared at her, despite my wet eyes. My former mentor? The person whose faith I’ve admired most in all of my life?

“Yes, Shelagh,” Sister Julianne smiled, looking straight into my eyes, which were no longer wet. “I thought I lost my faith, too. It was just after I consoled that family. The Tillerson’s? The man who died after abusing his wife and son and doing…” she shuddered. “Unnatural things to his daughter.”

I nodded, a cold chill rushing through me as I thought of those poor people.

“I spent months wondering why God had allowed such things, and so I closed my heart to him,” Sister Julianne continued.

I stared at her, wondering how I hadn’t noticed these struggles. I had a new baby at the time, but that was no excuse. Sister Julianne was my family as well. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.” Suddenly, everything was too much. Hot tears rolled down my face.

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” Sister Julianne said gently. “I’m supposed to be our spiritual director as much as our medical director. How would anyone respect me if they knew? And… perhaps, I didn’t want to admit it was a problem. I was scared.” She said that last sentence so softly I could barely hear her.

“I understand that,” I told her, smiling despite my tears.

“I think you’re braver than I am in some ways, Shelagh. You’re not afraid to speak of your problems. And that’s how you’ll get through them. And remember, even if you can’t feel the Lord, you can feel his fruits. Love from your family.”

I nodded. I was still rather annoyed at Patrick, but we did have love. We all did. “Yes,” I agreed.

“And remember, you can come to Compline, as well. I found what I couldn’t feel the Lord by myself, I could often feel Him as we sang together.”

My heart already felt lighter after speaking to her. At the time, I really believed things would get better.

OOOOOOOOOO

That night, Teddy lost his favorite bear, and Patrick searched everywhere for it. Meanwhile, I struggled to keep my eyes open while I read Jemima Puddle-Duck to Angela.

“Let us have a dinner party,” I read, trying to force my eyes to stay open.

“No, Daddy! Bear!” Teddy’s voice shouted in the background. My eyes opened again at the sudden noise.

“… She had no way of knowing she was gathering ingredients… “ I yawned and rubbed my eyes for the fourth time. I would not fall asleep. “… ingredients for roast duck.”

OOOOOOOO

The next thing I knew, Patrick’s warm hand landed on my shoulder, and my eyes opened again, shocked. Had I really fallen asleep? My heart beat faster at the thought.

“Shelagh,” my husband whispered as we left Angela’s room. “I had hoped Sister Julianne would help you. I don’t know what else to do…” His face displayed more worry lines than usual, and I was reminded why I loved Patrick so much. He was such a caring soul.

“It did help Patrick,” I said as I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Truly I’m glad you asked her to come here today.” Suddenly I stumbled against the edge of the hallway rug. I would have fallen over if he weren’t there to catch me.

“Shelagh!” he said, clutching me to his chest. “This is what I mean. You’re tired all the time. I’m worried. You know when Marrianne was… was… she was really sleepy, too? I can’t do that again.” His brown eyes looked haunted as he lost himself in a memory, and I felt his hands shake.

My heart almost stopped as I stared at him. Of course, he would be anxious, if this reminded him of Marrianne’s cancer. Why did that not occur to me that some of his behavior was because of painful memories? “Patrick, no. It’s not that,” I said. 

I think you’re braver than I am in some ways, Shelagh. Sister Julianne’s voice returned to me just then. You’re not afraid to speak of your problems. “It’s just that I’m afraid to sleep.” I finally admitted. I could say that, at least.

“Nightmares?” Patrick asked softly, as he stroked my hair.

“Sort of,” I said to his strong chest. “I’m beginning to wonder if they’re real, now. If I’m really leaving you and the children when I sleep. I can’t do it anymore, Patrick! I’m already missing Timothy so much...” Tears formed in my eyes for the second time that day.

“Quite. I still miss Tim, so much,” Patrick said into my hair. “And I’m familiar with terrible nightmare that feel so real you don’t want to sleep, too. The experiences I had when I was at Northfield were terrible.”

I didn’t think this was exactly the same thing, but it was nice to know he understood some of my fear.

“But as terrifying as it is to fall asleep in these circumstances, as a nurse, you know you can’t survive this way,” Patrick said, gently wiping the tears from my eyes.

Yes, I knew. I just didn’t know if I could survive another one of those time travel dreams, either. 

“Is there anything you can think of that would make sleeping more comfortable for you?” he asked.

“I refuse to use sleeping pills, Patrick,” I told him, knowing exactly what he would be thinking. “After what happened with the Distaval …”

Patricks’ eyes widdend in horror. “Oh, no. Of course not! But sometimes there are other ways. A darker room, maybe? I could get a thicker shade. Light music? We already have a gramophone. I found after I left Northfield I could sleep with soft pajamas.

I smiled, suddenly understanding why his sleepwear was so particular. Speaking of sleepwear… “Do you remember the night you lent me your pajamas, when we were still engaged?”

Patrick nodded, smiling as well, as if recalling an especially fond memory. “Yes.”

“I sleep quite well that night, even though the settee was uncomfortable. Perhaps if you lend me a pair of your pajamas again, they will help?” I said, hopefully.

Patrick’s smile lit up his entire face, and my heart skipped a beat. “It seems my pajamas are medicine for both of us.” With that, he led me into our bedroom and handed me a pair.

“By the way, did you finally find Teddy’s bear?” I asked as I changed. 

Patrick chuckled. “Yes. It was under the dining room table. But he went right to sleep afterwards. I hope you will do the same tonight.”

I climbed into bed, loving the way my husband’s scent surrounded me with every breathe. The pajamas made me feel warm and safe, just as they had the last time. 

I truly believed everything would be all right that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ps 62: 1 – 9. St Joseph ed.
> 
> I know most CoM fans believe the nuns’ faith in God is constant. And in their defense, that’s what the show implies, as the only people who have had any faith crises are Sister Bernadette and Sister Mary Cynthia, who both eventually left the Order.   
> But I’ve read personal reflections from real life nuns (particularly Saint Teresa of Avila and Saint Mother Teresa of Calcutta). I’ve also spoken to a nun I knew personally about her commitment and relationship with God. And I’ve concluded that most nuns’ relationship with God has “ups and downs” just like we do with our human spouses.  
> Granted, the real-life nuns I’ve read about and spoken to were all Catholic, but as the Anglican nuns on the show have a similar calling and take similar vows as Catholic nuns, I assume they would have similar struggles.


	5. Charlotte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather far – fetched, but I couldn’t resist. 😊 And considering how far – fetched the whole story is, why not?

I was still afraid to sleep, and many times I would lie away, staring at the ceiling with my heart beating too fast. But Patrick’s pajamas helped, and I began to sleep more. Meanwhile, I took Sister Julianne’s suggestion and attended Compline whenever I could. I hoped she was correct, and I would soon feel the Lord’s presence again.

Eventually, Patrick decided I appeared rested enough to return to work, and the joy of helping mothers and children filled my soul. We also celebrated Angela and Teddy’s birthday’s, and their happy faces may have allowed me to feel God, if only for a moment.  
How could I fail to trust God, when he gave me such precious children? 

Christmas approached, and Timothy came home as well, which was another precious gift. Meanwhile, I tried to explain Advent to Angela. Before I knew it, the Lord had returned to me. And that was the most wonderful gift of all.

OOOOOOOOOO

“I can’t believe we’re finally in London,” said Da’s voice after I had fallen asleep one night at the end of January. “I can do so much better than most of the others in Parliament.”

My belly started doing backflips as I stared at him. Not again. Not again. 

“Come, Shelagh,” Da said, gently pulling me down the streets. “You know London isn’t safe, thanks to Herr Hitler’s bombings. I’m hoping to send you home as soon as I’m settled.”  
My belly flipped even faster at his word. Da was right. London wasn’t safe right now, so why did he have to come here? Then my braid stopped.

Da and I had never visited London during the war. And despite how many times he talked about it, he never ran for Parliament, much less been elected into the House of Commons. This was just a dream.

Truly. 

OOOOOOOOOOO

I took a deep breath as Da led me out of our hotel, inhaling the smog. London still smelled the same as it always did, even though this was the affluent West End. 

“I don’t know, Shelagh,” Da said looking nervously at the sky. “You never know when the bombs will come, here. Perhaps we don’t need to eat at a restaurant.” He tugged my hand back to the hotel.

“I’m certain we will be fine, Da,” I said, not worried at all. After all, this was only a dream. Neither of us would be hurt. “We should enjoy a nice meal.” I smiled at him.

Da finally nodded. “Fine but stay close to me.” He pulled me closer to his side and eyed the sky every few moments. If I noticed how slow we walked, I assumed it was his nerves.

All at once, he coughed loudly and grabbed his chest. Heart attack! I thought, completely forgetting this was a dream. Instead I struggled to hold my father upright, while trying to remember the way to The London from here. I wasn’t used to this area, and the Blitz only made it worse. “Come on, Da,” I said, trying to keep calm. “We need a doctor.”

I must have said that last line louder than I thought.

A couple of men dressed in army uniforms appeared, automatically taking my father from my struggling arms. “Don’t worry, we’ve got him,” said one of the soldiers. It hit me how familiar that voice sounded.  
I turned and stared at a face that appeared so much younger, bust still had the same dark hair and warm brown eyes that I loved. The other soldier handed Patrick a stethoscope, and he quickly checked Da’s heartbeat. “He’s fading,” Patrick said to the other man. “We need to get to The London as quickly as possible.”

The other man, a sandy – blond haired man, nodded immediately. “Let’s get him to the car.” They dragged him in the direction of a beat – up vehicle that I could barely believe was functioning. Nothing like the car my Patrick usually drove.  
Still, I followed them blindly. I had to save Da.

“Don’t worry; The London is only around the corner from here,” Patrick said to me as we drove. But I hated the tone in his voice. It held none of the respect he usually had. He spoke to me like I was a child. A child that needed to be placated, and I hated it.  
It suddenly occurred to me that to Patrick I was a child.

OOOOOOOOO

“So, Da is going to be all right?” I asked an hour later. My voice shook a little, despite how many times I told myself to stay calm. It seemed as if I had been waiting in the hospital forever.

“Absolutely,” the sandy – blond haired man smiled at me. Patrick had probably said his name at one point, but unfortunately, I couldn’t remember it. 

“He’s going to need some help, but I’m certain you can give it to him,” said Patrick. It was just the kind of thing he would say. And ordinarily, I would love him for it. But I hated the tone in his voice and the way he smiled at me. He still thought I was a child.   
I tried my best to smile back, but it may have come out as a frown.

Patrick turned to his friend again, his dark hair flopping in that adorable way. “Well, as everything here is sorted, I will go see Charlotte.”

It was a causal comment said in his normal voice, but it seemed like it was the loudest statement I’d ever heard. All could hear was Charlotte. Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte. 

OOOOOOOOOOO

Waking up in Patrick’s arms should have felt wonderful. Comforting. Safe. I should have snuggled deeper into his warmth. Perhaps kissed his cheek after I stretched.

But I still felt hurt from being treated like a child. And I couldn’t stop thinking of that other woman. So, I stared into his brown eyes, and said, “Who is Charlotte?”

The shocked look on Patrick’s face told me all I needed to know. Charlotte was a woman from his past. It couldn’t have been a dream. 

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Well, that’s everything that has happened in the past year.

Patrick seems to go back and forth between ignoring me and worrying about me. He constantly asks if I’m rested enough and is eager to loan me his pajamas whenever possible. He questions whether I should be working all the time. At the same time, he refuses to speak of anything else. If I try to discuss patients, he says that I shouldn’t worry about it. When I speak of the children, he says it doesn’t matter. He won’t look me in the eye, and he is uncomfortable when I try to touch him in anyway.   
It's as if he can’t decide between being worried about me or not trusting me.

I don’t know how to reach him. I try to stop wondering of Charlotte. I should have no reason to be jealous. But her name hangs between us, like unspoken bomb.

More importantly, I don’t know how to reach the Lord. I had just begun trusting God again over Christmas, and then this happened. Why is he doing this to me? Or is there something else responsible that is more powerful than God?

For the third time this week, I break down. Tears fill my eyes, and I notice my pillow is wet. Firmly, I wipe my eyes before Patrick comes in here. I can’t do this anymore.

I stand up, ready to leave the room just as the door creaks open. “Excuse me,” I say to him as I look at the blue carpet. I’m not going to look at him any longer. It’s too painful to see him avoiding me. And what of Charlotte? Besides, I don’t want to sleep and wake up in the past again. 

I’ll go downstairs and listen to the wireless all night.

“Shelagh. Wait.” Patrick’s voice stops me just before I leave. He reaches for my hand, and I am surprised by how warm he still makes me feel. But I still can’t bring myself to look at him. The blue carpet has suddenly become very interesting. 

“Patrick,” I sigh, knowing what he must have decided to discuss. “Don’t worry. I’m rested enough.” 

I move to leave again, but the word “no” hits my ears. “I mean, I still hope you’re resting enough,” he says softly, squeezing my hand at the same time. Once again, the feeling goes straight to my heart. “But what I really wanted to ask you is,” he takes a deep breath. “How did you know of Charlotte?”

My heart jumps up and down. How can I explain this? Do I even want to explain it?

I dare to glance at him. Just for a second. And I am surprised by the tender, loving expression that fill his entire face. “It was another one of those dreams,” I say to the carpet. 

“But I really don’t think they’re dreams anymore. The first time, I dreamed of the day my mother died, and I woke up with her blood all over my hands. Then there was the time Da and I lived in a little town, and I was forced to play with goats. I woke up with dirt on my hands. Then it was just Da and me living during the war with him complaining all the time.” Patrick give my hand a wee squeeze.

“And the last time,” I take a deep breath and look at him in the eyes. They stare back at me, full of the love they always had. Charlotte wasn’t important, I reminded myself. “Da had a heart attack and you helped him.”  
“I’m glad I was able to help your father,” Patrick says. Pausing, he seems to notice I had been crying, and gently kisses my puffy eyes as he brought me to recline on the bed.

Then his face turns confused as he forehead wrinkles more than normal. I know what he's thinking. What did this have to do with Charlotte?

“But before you left us,” I sigh again. “You said you were going to see Charlotte.” 

Patrick nodded, appearing even more confused, reclining on the bed next to me. “Charlotte was a woman I was seeing during the war.”

I nod, my heart sinking to my feet. I had suspected as much, but I didn’t like hearing it confirmed. ‘Charlotte is nothing,’ my head says again. “How come I’ve never heard of her?” I ask.

“I don’t have pleasant memories of her,” Patrick says, staring at the ceiling. “After I went into Northfield for treatment, she didn’t want anything to do with me.”

My heart sinks to my feet for an entirely different reason. I suddenly feel an uncharacteristic desire to hit this woman, wherever she is. How could she just pack him in for something he had no control? I lean over and stare into his eyes. “I’ll always want you to be with me,” I tell him.

“I know,” Patrick says softly. He kisses my hand, filling me with love. “But you know, Charlotte’s additude toward my illness was pretty common. We were supposed to be ‘mentally unstable’ and ‘unfit for people to be around.’ He stared off into the distance for several moments. “The reasons why I told you I didn’t want to speak about Northfield were true, Shelagh. We were told to ‘move on,’ and I did that by never thinking or –

“ – Speaking about it,” I finish for him. He’d explained this to me several times since I’d first found out about his war neurosis. Apparently, it was considered the best way to treat such conditions, although I didn’t understand why.

“But I suppose I was afraid of other people reacting like Charlotte, too,” he says, with his eyes on the ceiling.

“You are not mentally unstable or unfit to be around people, Patrick,” I tell him firmly, turning my head to stare into his eyes.

He nods and stares at the ceiling again. “But I didn’t love her, you know. Charlotte. She was fun, and it was nice to have someone to come home to during the war. But that was it. But I’ve only loved two women in my life… and I was lucky enough to marry both.”

“Oh, Patrick,” I say feeling my hands go into his hair as we share a deep kiss. 

“But that’s what really worries me now,” I say, finally drawing back to look into his warm brown eyes again. “If I am traveling into my past, where will I go next? I hate being separated from you and the children, but more than that, what if I change something and we don’t meet? I should want my father to live longer than he did, but what if that means I stay in Aberdeen instead of going to London?”

I suddenly realize this is my deepest fear. I could never live my life without Patrick. Without being a mother to Timothy, Angela, and Teddy. 

“Shelagh, I really don’t know what’s going on with your dreams, but I’m certain we were supposed to meet, one way or another,” Patrick says firmly in a way that there is no room for doubt.

“But Patrick, my father never had a heart attack that I remember growing up. We never went to London together. And if now we did, which is the only explanation I can think of for Charlotte…” My voice shakes a little as realize how real this all is. What could happen next?

“What will happen is that you and I will meet, and I will eventually become completely captivated by you.” Patrick wraps his arms around me and stares into my eyes. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”  
With that, I feel my husband covering me with kisses and touches. I try desperately to believe him, wondering when my husband began having more faith than I did. But for now, love is all that matters as I cover him with warm kisses as both of our clothes disappear.


	6. 1965

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shelagh struggles again with what her dreams mean and eventually decides to be grateful for her family no matter what.

For the next couple of months, sleep scared me once again. I would lie in bed for hours, struggling to keep my eyes open, so I wouldn’t lose my family. Every time my eyes began to close, I would snap them open, like a light switch.

When I did sleep, I would jerk awake, desperate to assure myself my family was still here with me. My hands touched Patrick’s arms and smelled his chest. Many times, I visited Angela and Teddy’s rooms in the middle of the night, sighing with relief when I spotted their beds and listened to their soft breathing. Once I even rang Timothy at university, just to make certain he still knew me. 

How much longer would they be in my life? I wanted to ask the Lord that. I wanted to scream at Him for doing this to me. But what was the point? Either He didn’t care about me any longer, or there was something more powerful than God at work.  
Patrick worried that I wasn’t sleeping enough again, of course. He lent me his pajamas almost every night, but I couldn’t bring myself to sleep, even in those. A few times, he even insisted I stay home from work, and he suggested it almost every day. “Shelagh,” he pulled my face to look at him after I finished putting my uniform on one day. “I know your dreams trouble you, but this isn’t healthy. I do think you should stay home and rest.”

Rest. Another word for sleep. My heart beat faster and faster as I shook my head. “No, Patrick. I do far better when I can focus on work.” And I did. Nothing at the Surgery scared me like what happened when I slept. “And I know you need help with all of those influenza cases coming in right now.” 

Patrick’s face dropped in a way I hated. “I’d rather you be all right than have help with influenza.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder, resting without allowing my eyes to close. “Helping with the influenza cases will make me ‘all right,’” I told him as firmly as I could.

“Just remember that I know we’ll be together, no matter what may or may not happen in your dreams,” Patrick said just as firmly as I headed to the children’s room to wake them. I wished he wasn’t so dismissive about the reality of my dreams. Sometimes I felt like yelling at him for that. Still, I loved that he still had so much faith in us and our family.

He told me we’d be together no matter what every day.

OOOOOOOOOOO

A month after my latest dream/experience, I carefully took an eight – year old girl’s blood pressure. “It’s a wee bit too low,” I sighed.

“What does that mean?” her mother asked, fear in her blue eyes. “I thought she’d recovered from influenza two weeks ago.” She shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” the girl croaked. I hated how painful her voice sounded.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” the mother patted her daughter’s light brown hair affectionately. “It’s not your fault. I just don’t understand how you could be sick again.” Besides low blood pressure, and an obvious cough, the girl also had a fever. Considering she had just recovered from influenza, I suspected she might have pneumonia. “Why, Nurse?” the mother turned to look at me.

Usually I loved being called “Nurse.” Just as much as I loved wearing the uniform. Especially considering my recent personal experiences. No matter how many problems I had personally and may have in the future, I could still help give the community quality health care. But not today. This mother expected me to have some magic answer that would fix everything, and I didn’t.

Pneumonia was generally a disease for the elderly, after all. Some health professionals even called it “the old man’s friend,” because it was supposed to be an easy way for them to die. But not for this little girl, who wasn’t even as tall as I was yet. Not with all her hopes and dreams still in front of her.

The girl took a deep rasping breath and coughed deeply. Her mother looked at me, her blue eyes pleading for answers.

“She needs to have Dr. Turner examine her,” I told the mother instead. Patrick would help.

“I do believe Rachel has pneumonia,” Patrick said with a frown as he removed his stethoscope from her chest. 

“Doctor, really?” the mother asked, her voice quavering a bit. 

“Unfortunately, but Mrs. Reed, pneumonia isn’t a death sentence the way it used to be,” Patrick said in the calm, soothing voice he’d perfected over the years. “Penicillin is a wonderful drug, especially with a girl as young as your daughter.” 

Of course. A weight lifted off my shoulders. Pneumonia had been a death sentence for so long, sometimes even I forgot that wasn’t always the case anymore. “That’s correct, Mrs. Reed,” I said. After she takes the medicine, your daughter should be fine.”

The girl coughed again, almost doubling over, holding her chest.

“Will she really be fine?” Mrs. Reed asked. The cough had obviously increased her fears.   
I understood. I couldn’t imagine how scary it would be to hear Angela cough like that. But I knew she needed reassurance. “She was healthy before, so she should be again.”  
“You’ll need to have her X – rayed to receive an official diagnosis,” Patrick continued, writing something on his pad. “Then she will be able to receive the medicine. It will take longer to recover than the influenza did, but she should become well again.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Reed nodded, but her eyes still looked nervous. “I wish I could say something like, ‘I’m grateful for all the time I’ve already had with her,’ but I can’t. I won’t rest until I know she’s well again.” She picked up the X – ray notice from Patrick and assisted her daughter out of the office.

Patrick shook his head at me sadly as he filled out forms. Our eyes met, sharing our pain for the poor mother. 

But the woman’s comment repeated itself over and over again for the rest of the day. “I’m grateful for all the time I’ve already had with her,” she had said. It suddenly occurred to me that I could lose my family at any time, regardless of my time travel experiences. They could become deathly ill, just like Mrs. Reed worried her little girl was. Or be involved in an accident.

Should I be grateful for the time I have with my family, no matter what may happen? 

OOOOOOOOOO

“Bath!” Teddy babbled again as he splashed his hands in the water later that night. 

“Quite,” I said with a smile, washing his back at the same time. I loved how happy he was. His smile was wonderful. 

Laughing, he splashed again, and the soap hit me in the face. It tickled my nose, and I giggled. Then I began washing his little tummy.  
Mrs. Reed was correct. I should be grateful for the time I had with my family, not worrying how much time I had left.

OOOOOOOOOOO

As usual, the house felt quiet after the children were in bed, and I felt even more sleepy. I fought the urge to yawn, focusing my mind on Teddy covered in soap. A smile spread across my face once again.

“You seem happier,” Patrick said as I poured our tea for the night. I was careful to add two spoonful’s of milk to his and one two mine. “I think I’ve seen you smile more tonight than in the past two weeks.”

“I suppose I am a wee bit happier,” I said, carrying my tea to the table. “I still feel nervous about what might happen when I sleep, but something Mrs. Reed said really affected me.” I took a sip of tea, allowing the hot liquid to revitalize me.

Patrick sipped his own tea for a moment, and then returned to his paperwork that was sprawled everywhere. “Good.”

“Quite,” I agreed. “She said something like, ‘We should be grateful for the time we have with our children.’ And she’s right. I’m not the only one who might lose my family, after all. But for now…”

Patrick’s eyes met mine over the table, full of understanding. Of course. He’d lost part of his family before. “… For now, we have them,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Quite.”

I nodded, moving closer to him. “And I’m grateful for that. For, Teddy, Angela, Timothy, and you.”

He kissed my cheek in response, warming me from head to toe. “As am I. And I still maintain we will be together no matter what may or may not occur in your dreams.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

I tried to be grateful for the family I had now, but it was difficult. Many nights I still fought to keep my eyes open. I still worried I might wake up as a teenager or even as a postulant. I may have already changed my past the last time it happened. Would I change my future? 

What would happen if I traveled to the time when I was a postulant? How could I pretend to be something I was no longer meant to be? How could I make those same promises? And yet, if I didn’t make those promises, would I be living a different life?  
Would Patrick, Angela, Timothy, or Teddy disappear someday? Would I find myself living in a different house?

It didn’t help that Rachel seemed sicker than Patrick and I first believed. “She’s still taking the medication?” I asked as he reviewed her case again after his house calls.

“According to her mother, she is. But it’s been two weeks, Shelagh.” He ran his hands through his hair as he leaned back in his desk chair. “And her cough isn’t improving. I thought since she was a child, she’d be fine, but...” His brown drooped as they stared into mine. “I hope I don’t have to send her to St. Cuthbert’s for oxygen.” 

My heart twisted into knots at the thought of that little girl still suffering. And her poor mother. “Oh, Patrick,” I said to him. Would the Lord take her, too?   
Crossing the room, I put my arms around him, and he wrapped his around me. At least we had each other. For now.

OOOOOOOOO

Lent meant nothing to me that year. Why should I sacrifice for a Lord that seemed to threaten to take so many things from me? I felt empty in church once again, and I didn’t even fast.

OOOOOOOOOOO

And yet, Angela still loved the Easter Bonnet Parade as much as she ever did. Patrick and I loved her happy smiles as she modeled her new pink bonnet. I was grateful for her innocence. Somehow my world felt lighter. Perhaps Easter would always be a time for new beginnings after all?

Soon Patrick told me that Rachel had responded to the combination of penicillin and oxygen at the hospital. He looked forward to his house calls with her again, as she seemed to be improving now. I loved the way his eyes shinned when he spoke of the girl’s success. “In fact, Rachel has improved enough to be called on by a nurse instead of this old doctor,” he said, grinning as he signed off her paperwork. Suddenly I was filled with gratitude that I married such a man. He grew more attractive all the time.

“Oh Patrick!” I giggled as I examined his warm brown eyes, thick dark hair, and strong arms. “You’re much too handsome to be old.” 

OOOOOOOOOOO

Timothy returned home and I was even more grateful for that. I loved to see him joke with Angela and play with Teddy. And Patrick and I were so proud of how well he was doing in school.

“An A in economics, Tim?” Patrick said, staring at his marks. “I don’t think I scored that well.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said, shaking my head at how hard it was for Patrick to manage our budget. It was a good thing he didn’t mind my assistance. “But a B plus in literature, Tim?” I said, my eyes widening as I returned my attention to his grades. “That’s wonderful.” 

Timothy rolled his eyes while I hugged him. “Whatever,” he said.

Yes, I was so grateful he was home.

OOOOOOOOOO

As the summer continued, I realized I was no longer worried about my dreams. It had been seven months since my last one, after all. The longest time between any of the previous ones was four months.  
I didn’t need to fret about decisions I made in my past that might change my future. I wouldn’t wake up as a postulant again and not be able to make the same commitment. I wouldn’t lose my family. Not that way.

I felt lighter than I had in over a year. My smile was wider than ever. I kissed Angela and Teddy all the time, and Timothy complained I hugged him too much, even for a Mum.

I just hugged him again for that.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

“You’re happier than you’ve been in a long time,” Patrick said to me one night after pulling on his flannel pajamas. 

“I am,” I said, opening the blankets so he could climb into bed with me. “I’ve just realized I’m not scared of going to sleep anymore.”

“I’m glad,” Patrick said with a soft smile. “I was worried for you.” He kissed both my eyelids. “You had dark circles under your eyes too often.”

“I did,” I agreed, kissing his hand. “But I haven’t had those kind of dreams for several months. Either whatever happened stopped because it only lasted for a year, or the Lord was trying to teach me a lesson. I should be grateful for our family. And that I made the right decision when I became a nun and when I married you, because the dreams stopped before I entered the convent. So, nothing I could do changed that.”

Patrick’s brown eyes stared into mine. It was as if he could see straight into my soul. “I’m certain you know which one I believe,” I said.

Patrick nodded. “I’m grateful for our family, too. And I know you made the right decisions. Because I loved you when you were Sister Bernadette and now that you are Shelagh.” 

Smiling, I fingered his soft pajama top. “I told Sister Monica Joan once that we don’t choose a life; it chooses us.” 

He reached for the pajama top I was wearing, grinning that I was still wearing his. My body grew warmer and warmer as Patrick carefully unbuttoned it. “I think I understand that better now than I ever did. I was meant to be a nun. And then I was meant to be your wife.”

Somehow Patrick’s grin spread further as he pulled the top off me. “Quite,” he said as I started to unbutton the top he was wearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the ending makes sense to people besides me. But feel free to ask questions if you are confused.  
> I’d like to thank those who were willing to read this. I got better feedback for this story than I thought I might, considering it’s my first Call of the Midwife story, and it’s so unrealistic in many ways.  
> On that note, if any of you are looking for new story ideas, I highly recommend you think about/look through your old school material. This story is based on a prompt I had from the fifth grade.  
> But, my next Call of the Midwife stories will be more realistic and more canon friendly. Ideas include: Sister Julianne’s faith crisis discussed in this story from her POV (a one – shot, probably), the effect of Patrick’s PTSD on the Turnadette marriage ( a multi – chapter), and Timothy coming home from college for Christmas (a one – shot).

**Author's Note:**

> I’m going to do my best to update this every two weeks, and always on Wednesdays.


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